Page 73 of The VIP Package

Following a leisurely—albeit, somewhat strained—dinner date under the stars, I bid goodnight to Camille at the marina.

“I wish you could stay.” She stretches on tiptoe to plant a warm kiss on my jaw, the Shalimar scent of her flooding my senses.

“I wish I could, too.” I cling to her longer than any reasonable hug ought to last. When I let go, my arms feel like lead.

“Duty calls,” she says, trailing a hand down my chest. “I’ve already kept you from work so much this week.”

My heart squeezes tight as I stare into her wide, hazel eyes. “It’s not you, I promise.”

“I know.”

I need to make sure she believes me. “I’d kill to spend the night with you, but I only have twenty-four hours to get through an enormous amount of documentation from?—”

“I understand, Ash. I do.” There’s a sadness I’ve sensed in Camille since I told her I need time to process. But she’s wearing a smile that looks real, so maybe my guilt is misplaced. “Finding work/life balance is important,” she says. “We don’t need to stay tethered at the hip.”

Brushing the hair from her face, I let my hand linger on her cheek. “I swear I’m not a workaholic.” Some ego-driven urge prompts me to insist I’m not like her ex. “In a choice between spending the night with you or my laptop, you win nine times out of ten.”

Her perceptive smile says she sees right through me. “Trust me, I know you’re not Hayden. Oh!” Her eyes go wide. “I just remembered something.”

That she lost her mind when she said she’d like to keep seeing me? “What did you remember?”

“Hayden asked for your number.”

“Hayden your ex?” What the hell does he want?

“I told him we’re sleeping together, and he asked for your personal contact info.” She must read the alarm on my face. “Not to call you aboutthat.He couldn’t care less that we’re having sex. He seemed happy for me.”

“He did?” That seems unlikely. “He’s a bigger man than I am.”

“Debatable.” She darts a meaningful look at my groin. “He had questions about the disclosure documents. I think it had something to do with an upcoming meeting?”

“That’s later this week.” I’m impressed by the signs that he’s taking it seriously. “My current legal team let me know the new firm sets up corporate clients a bit differently.”

Camille looks concerned. “I hope it’s nothing bad.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I can’t seem to stop touching her face. I’m pretending I’m tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, but the truth?

She looks stunningly lovely bathed in moonlight. My hands ache to touch her, to memorize the contours of her cheekbones. There’s a freckle at the edge of her lip that I’m dying to dip down and kiss. And the softness of her hair, the faint scent of bergamot and spice?—

“You okay?” Turning her head, she kisses the side of my thumb. “What’s going on in your head?”

“Contemplating a live band for the welcome-back event Saturday.”

She smiles at the lie. “I love how well you treat your staff.”

Guilt pokes my ribs with a sharp, icy finger. There’s no way I can share what I’mreallythinking. I’m so goddamn in love with Camille that it’s physically painful.

Yes,love.

I fucking said it.

Not out loud. I’m not insane.

What she said about keeping in touch once she leaves here? I want that so much that every bone in my body feels brittle. I picture us together tomorrow, next month, next year, nextdecade. I’ve had the same thoughts since the first day we met.

Which should be a warning right there.

“I really should go.” Waves slosh the boat dock beneath us. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

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